


What noise?

by RoughTweedAction (Donya)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humour, Moaning text alert, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 07:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11801322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donya/pseuds/RoughTweedAction
Summary: The curse of moaning text alert strikes again. This time it's Mycroft's phone and a strangely familiar, male moan.





	What noise?

John sighed in relief when he opened the door to Sherlock's flat and could finally let go of Rosie's hand. He did enjoy holding her usually clammy, plump hand, but today she was wearing edible rings on all of her fingers. Monster Munch on her left hand, Hula Hoops on her right. Refused to finish them, forcing John to hold her awkwardly by her palm. At least she wasn't going to lose her snacks.

Sherlock had company. Mycroft, as always, looked a bit too comfortable in John's chair and clearly had no plans of getting up. In fact, when he saw John, he leant back and stroked the armrest with the tips of his fingers. However, when he noticed Rosie's unusual jewellery, his smugness turned into apprehension. He knew, and so did John, that sooner or later, Rosie would grab onto his leg or arm, leaving greasy stains. No item of clothing was safe in Rosie's presence. Mycroft put on a brave face, preparing himself for the inevitable.

Sherlock, in his least favourite dressing gown, was relaxed and delighted to see his goddaughter. He greeted Rosie warmly and resisted only a little when she shoved one of her snacks into his mouth. Mycroft gave a noise of disgust, although he had two younger siblings and surely witnessed grosser behaviour. His hand tightened on the handle of the umbrella as if he intended to use it to keep the little rascal away from his impeccable suit.

'Isn't it time for her nap?' Mycroft eyed the slowly approaching child.

'She doesn't take naps anymore. What brings you here? Another top-secret mission?'

Mycroft looked at Sherlock, half-amused, half-annoyed. 'It's the other way round. Sherlock thinks he had found a case. Elizabeth Smallwood: the true criminal mastermind. According to Sherlock, she's paid Vivian Norbury to take the blame for her crimes.'

Sherlock could hardly control himself. He picked up a handful of documents from the desk and waved it dangerously close to Mycroft's face. 'These documents leave no doubt. She has planned this, all of this. Oh, she's clever.' Sherlock spat out, provoked by Mycroft's attitude.

'Oh, for heaven's sake. We've been over this, haven't we?' Mycroft asked in a manner that ensured a long, heated discussion about Sherlock's intelligence and apparently, Mycroft's affection for Lady Smallwood.

John groaned quietly and went to the kitchen to make some tea. He knew better than to leave Rosie unattended for a few minutes. He would glance at her every ten seconds and sure enough, she saw an opportunity for mischief and took it. John watched as she made her way to Mycroft's coat, left unwisely on the sofa, well within her reach. She checked the pockets, found Mycroft's phone and triumphantly held it up so John could see. He gave her a nod of encouragement and calmly put the kettle on.

The sound of the Holmes brothers arguing was suddenly interrupted by a loud exhale, suspiciously close to a purely erotic moan. John turned around abruptly, leaving his mug half-full. He abandoned it altogether and returned to the sitting room. Rosie, utterly unfazed, carried on her exploration of Mycroft's possession. Her fingers moved and the lewd noise again made all the adults present deeply uncomfortable. Especially John. He lied to himself he didn't mind Irene Adler's text alert noise that made him cringe every time he heard it. And now a new one, recorded for Mycroft by an enthusiastic man. It was never going to end. Moaning of the Holmes' fans.

Rosie gave him one more chance to listen to a man's breathy moan and he was almost entirely sure he recognised it. It's been over seven years since he caught Sherlock pleasuring himself with three nicotine patches and he sounded exactly like the recorded noise. Rosie played it one last time to confirm John's assumption. That was definitely Sherlock. John came up to Rosie and asked for the phone. She sensed the gravity of the situation and handed it to John without a word of protest. Only then did John look at Mycroft.

Frozen mid-sentence, one hand still raised to point to the document held by Sherlock, worryingly pale and seemingly not breathing, Mycroft seemed to be in shock so deep he could not bring himself to take the phone from John and leave in a dignified fashion. He must have known that every passing second without a reasonable explanation for this sort of alert made matters worse, yet he remained silent. It was too late to turn it into a joke. It could not be a brotherly prank, John was certain. Mycroft knew he knew and had no clue how to react. None of his clever lies and half-truths would convince John that he misinterpreted the evidence.

Since Mycroft was unresponsive and didn't even care that John could easily find other incriminating recordings on his phone, John checked how Sherlock was doing. Aghast, open-mouthed, wide-eyed and quite possibly also guilty. If only at least one of them had laughed, even a bit nervously... Instead, they were as horrified as anyone whose incestuous secret was exposed. John hated how much sense it made, for example, that bizarre, anti-Smallwood rant he had just witnessed.

It was obvious that a strong-worded, loud conversation about incest and discretion had to wait. The Holmes were completely still, slowly processing what had just happened. John had a feeling that it was not shame that rendered them mute and unmoving, but the disbelief that they were caught. Most likely, they had been... together for years, overconfident and convinced no goldfish would ever figure out what they were hiding. Accepting the painful truth was not going to be easy.

Loath to leave them alone, John considered staying there just to make Mycroft feel unwelcome. Unfortunately, that could take hours, considering the severity of his shock. The quicker option was to put Mycroft's phone on the desk without checking its contents, grip Rosie's hand and take her home. It would give John plenty of time to find proper arguments for the unavoidable anti-incest lecture. 


End file.
